


Violet

by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM)



Series: Sabriel in Color [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, a little fluff, resolved angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:44:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14222415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GG_and_MM/pseuds/lacqueluster
Summary: After Gabriel's rescue from hell he's not sure where he stands with Sam.





	Violet

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the Sabriel in Color series, and also for two of the April prompts from the Gabriel Monthly Challenge on Tumblr. 
> 
> It uses the dialogue prompt: "I have seen it, and I can never unsee it."  
> And the statement prompt: Once, he was something to believe in, the king of tricks, a gilded angel. But now... What is he now?
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta, Miss Moose, for squeezing this one in so I could post it today!

 

Golden eyes survey the barren ground below. The pavement of the parking lot is cracked, fissures running throughout. Soil has invaded them, and a lonely meadow violet has taken up residence in one. The soft putple bloom stands boldly against the gray-black background. It’s defiance to persevere in the inhospitable circumstances is admirable. 

 

Gabriel is taken with the lonely flower for a moment. He wonders why humans think of these determined flowers as weeds. Why is one flower a weed and another not? Who makes those decisions? And how did humans lose the knowledge of beneficial plants over time? They used these for all sorts of things. They ate the leaves and flowers, boiled them for tea, used them in healing salves, but not any more. What happened? How did something that was once so important become such a nuisance? 

 

Life is strange, he muses. Things that were important are eventually discarded. He can’t help but think of himself and the relationship with his brothers, his father. They’d been so close, the right hand of their father, and then slowly, things changed. His father found new interests, humans, leaving the angels behind. His brothers drifted apart, fought, and Gabriel ran away. And now his father has lost interest in the humans, leaving them behind to destroy themselves, just as the angels did.

 

That old saying is true,  _ there is nothing permanent except change _ .  

 

The changes he’s seen over the thousands of years he’s been in existence aren’t really fathomable. Even he can’t quite grasp some of them, looking back.  **Once, he was something to believe in, the king of tricks, a gilded angel. But now... What is he now?** He can’t answer that. 

 

He hears the low, familiar rumble of the Impala off in the distance. He knows the Winchesters think he’s the solution to their problems. They need the grace of an Archangel, and he has it, although there’s not much left. 

 

He’s not sure he has the strength for these fights anymore. Saving the world, it seems so daunting now, and he’s tired. Somehow though, somehow the Winchesters always manage it. They get tired, but they never give up, or not for long. They hold each other up in the fight, and they always persevere in the face of impossible odds. Just like that flower.

 

He kneels down, touching the leaves of the violet, feeling the life within. It’s strong, stronger than pavement, which shouldn’t be possible. This tiny plant shouldn’t have roots strong enough to break up layers of heated sand, stone and gravel. Left alone, this flower will bust up an entire parking lot. It will spread, destroying the damage humans have done to the earth, if given the time. 

 

He takes some comfort in that. Maybe he can do the same. So he’s not the king of tricks anymore, and maybe his wings are broken shards of what they once were, but he’s still here. He’s still needed, and if he dies in this fight he’ll do it saving someone, again. 

 

He stands, watching the Impala round the corner and roll up to him. It stops a few feet away and Dean cuts the engine. The Winchesters step out, and Gabriel’s younger brother exits the back seat, approaching Gabriel first. He embraces him in a hug. Old age has softened Castiel, the once great soldier.

 

“It’s good to see you again, Gabriel,” Castiel says, in his gruff voice.

 

“Oh please, brother. You didn’t think I was gone for good, did you?” Gabriel teases.

 

Castiel doesn’t respond, stepping back and holding Gabriel at arms length to look him over. He doesn’t have to say anything, the small smile on his face and the shimmer in his eyes says it all. He had thought Gabriel was gone for good. 

 

Dean moves as close to Gabriel as the front of the car, leaning there with a protective hand on the hood. “You okay?” Dean asks. 

 

This is the first they’ve seen him since his rescue. He’d been a mess, his time in hell taking more out of him than he wanted to admit. Gabriel nods, not knowing what answer he can really give. 

 

“Good,” Dean says matter of factly, “make sure you leave my car alone.” 

 

Gabriel smirks, a glint sparking in his eyes. “Not making any promises, Dean-o.” 

 

Dean shakes his head, almost laughing. It’s how he and Gabriel communicate. Vague threats and jokes. It works for them. 

 

Dean and Cas wander off slowly, talking at the back of the car, giving Gabriel and Sam some distance. 

 

Sam’s tall frame steps closer, clearing his throat. He doesn’t speak, seeming not to know what to say. 

 

Gabriel can’t stand moments like this. The quiet makes him uncomfortable. 

 

“You get taller while I was gone?” he asks. 

 

The words have the effect he was hoping for, Sam’s face breaking into a lopsided grin. “Pretty sure you’ve gotten shorter.” 

 

Gabriel shrugs. “Doesn’t matter when you’re big in all the right places.” 

 

Sam’s head goes back, laughing and nodding at Gabriel’s statement. “Yeah, so you’ve always said.” 

 

“Don’t remember any complaints from you, Samsquatch,” Gabriel looks up at Sam, wondering if joking is the right approach to take here. He crosses his arms, feeling a little too vulnerable. He has no idea if Sam still feels the same way, if he’s still interested in Gabriel at all. A lot could have changed in the last eight years. 

 

Sam raises an eyebrow, licking his lips. His mouth opens to speak, then closes. He looks down at the ground, hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

 

His silence seems like an answer to unasked questions. The Winchesters need him, and he’ll help them however he can, but what used to be between him and Sam has passed, at least on Sam’s side. Knowing that isn’t fun, but he’ll find a way to get through it, survive, just like the violet. 

 

“Listen, Gabe, I think we need to talk--”

 

Gabriel holds a hand up. “No need, I get it. It was a long time ago, it didn’t mean anything. I’ll drop it.” 

 

Sam’s eyes fly up. “It didn’t mean anything?” 

 

Maybe those weren’t the right words. Gabriel is usually quick with words, sharp, but around Sam he seems to lose his edge just a bit. He’s always been afraid of saying the wrong thing. “Just thought I’d make this easier for you.”

 

“Make what easier for me, exactly?” Sam crosses his arms, matching the cross expression on his face. 

 

“Telling me you’re not interested any more,” saying the words stings more than Gabriel wants to admit. He rocks on his heels, hands tucking into his pockets, trying to embody an  _ I don’t care _ posture. “It’s fine, I’m sure you’ve moved on. It’s been a long time after all. Not like I could expect you to wait.” 

 

Sam purses his lips, eyes drawing together in confusion. “Wait on what?” 

 

Gabriel blinks. The answer to that should be obvious. “Me?” 

 

Sam’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, right. Wait on  _ you _ . And what would I have been waiting for? I don’t remember us defining what we were doing at the time.” 

 

Gabriel nods. “I don’t define anything I’m doing, ever. Thought you knew that about me.” 

 

“Oh yeah, I know.” 

 

Sam seems angry, not what Gabriel was expecting from their reunion. Definitely not what he’d hoped for their reunion, that’s for sure. 

 

“No,” Sam goes on, “everyone else has to play their roles, follow the plan, but not you.” Sam steps closer, finger hitting Gabriel in the chest. “You waltz in thinking you’ll save us all, when I told you  _ not to do that _ . Didn’t I tell you? You were supposed to snap out, Gabe. You were supposed to get the hell out of there, not stand off against Lucifer.” Sam pinches the bridge of his nose. 

 

Gabriel isn’t sure where this conversation is going. It’s completely one sided, and he has no idea what to say. He wants to say the right thing, but what is that? 

 

“I wanted to make sure you had enough time to get away. I was making sure you were safe…” his voice trails off. The pain on Sam’s face tells him those weren’t the right words for this moment. 

 

“I wanted  _ you _ safe,” Sam says a little too loudly. He glances over his shoulder, but Dean and Cas have walked off somewhere, leaving him and Gabriel alone. Sam sighs heavily, turning back to the angel. “I can’t go through that again, Gabe.” He shakes his head. “I was trying to help Dean get the rings, trying to keep it together when it seemed like everything was working against us, and the whole time I was grieving for you. I needed you, and it hurt so much.” Sam’s mouth is open like he’s going to go on, but he doesn’t. He raises his hands to his face, dragging them down his rough cheeks, and Gabriel sees the exhaustion there. The years of worry and pain have settled on Sam’s face.

 

“I’m sorry.” Gabriel says the words without thinking. Those are two words he hasn’t said much in his long life, and he’s said them even less when he actually means them. He means them now, though. Hurting Sam is never what he intended. 

 

Knowing Sam didn’t want him anymore because he’d moved on had stung, but knowing Sam doesn’t want him because Gabriel had hurt him is so much worse. Gabriel says it again. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

 

Sam nods almost imperceptibly, drawing in a quick breath and blowing it out. “I don’t want to go through that again,” Sam says, fear and pain plain on his face. 

 

Gabriel steps back. He’s the cause of that look on Sam’s face, and it makes him want to run. He can’t run, he has nowhere to go, but he’s not sure he can listen to Sam reject him anymore either. 

 

“I understand,” Gabriel holds a hand up, taking another retreating step, “It’s fine. You don’t want me, you’ve made it clear.”

 

Anger flashes over Sam’s face. “Let me talk, dammit! I think I’ve earned that.” 

 

Gabriel snaps his mouth shut. He steels himself, waiting for what Sam has to say. Sam is right, Gabriel deserves this. Hearing what Sam has to say might be more painful than any torture the Archangel endured in hell, but he deserves it, and Sam needs this to move on. So Gabriel waits. 

 

He watches Sam as he gathers his thoughts. Sam is beautiful in a way Gabriel could never quite grasp. Sure, Sam is handsome, no one would argue that. The hair, the bone structure, the height, there’s few beings in the world that wouldn’t find the younger Winchester physically attractive. But there’s more to it. There always has been. 

 

Gabriel studies Sam for possibly the millionth time since he’s known him. There’s something deep down in Sam’s soul that shines with a beauty Gabriel has never seen before. Sam is  _ good _ . That’s the closest Gabriel has ever been able to put it into words, and those words don’t nearly touch on it.

 

“What do you want from me?” Sam asks. 

 

The question comes from out of nowhere. Gabriel doesn’t know what Sam means. What answer is he looking for? He looks around, searching for words, and his eyes land on the tiny meadow violet sitting in the space between him and Sam.  _ Just survive this _ . 

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say here.” He evades an answer, hoping Sam will answer for him. 

 

“You don’t know what I want you to say?” Sam asks, even more exasperated. 

 

Every time Gabriel speaks he messes up more. He resolves to be quiet from here on out. 

 

“I want you to tell me what you want. Do you want it to go back to the way it was? Not  _ defining  _ anything?” Sam air quotes around the word “defining.” He doesn’t wait for Gabriel to speak, not that Gabriel was going to. “Because I’m past that. I don’t have time for that anymore. This world is too messed up, and we don’t know how much time we’ll have.” 

 

Gabriel cocks his head, questioning. It almost sounds like Sam is entertaining the thought of them together…

 

“I can’t watch you take unnecessary risks. I’m not going to worry about you being reckless anymore, thinking you’re saving me.” Sam steps closer. “So?”

 

Gabriel doesn’t trust himself to speak during Sam’s pause. He’ll say the wrong thing. 

 

“Answer my question,” Sam demands, “what do you want from me.”

 

Gabriel stares ahead into Sam’s chest, studying the familiar flannel. He closes his eyes, remembering the smell and warmth of the man, the way he craved him, missed him. Maybe they hadn’t defined what they were at the time, but it wasn’t because Gabriel didn’t want to. They didn’t talk about it because Gabriel was afraid of what Sam might say. He hadn’t wanted to hear Sam say that he didn’t feel how Gabriel did. 

 

There had never been a doubt for Gabriel though. He was Sam’s. He knew it then and he knows it now. 

 

“You,” Gabriel says softly, eyes still closed. “I want you, Sam.” 

 

He feels Sam’s arms around him, strong, warm and so familiar. Something in Gabriel gives way. He feels himself sort of melt, what little strength he had leaves him, and he sinks down. Sam follows him, holding on to Gabriel, until they’re sitting on the hard, broken pavement, the angel wrapped up tightly in Sam’s arms. 

 

They sit like that for a long time, gently rocking and quiet in the comfort of each others presence. Sam’s hands rub Gabriel’s back, fingers thread through his hair, and Gabriel tries to get closer,  _ closer _ . He wraps himself up in the familiarity of Sam like a blanket, almost not believing this is real. 

 

“Why was it so hard for us to talk about all this?” Sam finally asks. “Why didn’t we do it a long time ago?” 

 

“I was afraid,” Gabriel answers, opening his eyes. His head is leaned into Sam’s chest, as he sits cradled in Sam’s lap. When he opens his eyes he sees the violet beside Sam. “I was afraid you didn’t feel the same. I knew you needed my help at the time. I always figured once it was over you’d be done with me. I thought I was being too serious.” 

 

Sam chuckles. “Can’t imagine you’d be the serious one.” 

 

Gabriel smiles, lightly tickling Sam on the side. “Leave the jokes to me, Moose.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam squeezes a little tighter, “I know what you mean. I was afraid you’d say you were just in it for the sex. I figured that’s all you wanted.” 

 

“Well, it was some damn good sex,” Gabriel muses, “if you’re going to be in it for one thing that’s a good one to pick.” 

 

Sam snorts. “And all this time I thought we were the mature ones.” 

 

Gabriel looks up, arching a brow. 

 

“Okay, I thought  _ I _ was the mature one. I guess I thought we’d be better at this than Dean and Cas.” 

 

“We are better at this than Dean and Cas,” Gabriel says. “Are you kidding me? Our emotionally constipated brothers would have taken  _ years _ to have this conversation, and we managed it in less than an hour.

 

“Thanks to me,” Sam says, a little too much self righteousness ringing in his voice. 

 

“Careful not to fall off that high horse. I know you’re tall but it’s still a long way down,” Gabriel teases. 

 

The rumble of laughter in Sam’s chest feels like home. Gabriel hasn’t felt this relaxed in… Well, probably eight years. 

 

He watches Sam reach out, fingers gently touching the petals of the violet where it lives beside them. 

 

“Kinda pretty,” Sam says absently. 

 

“Yeah,” he watches Sam’s long fingers, so careful not to disturb the flower, “kinda.” 

 

Sam kisses the top of Gabriel’s head, speaking softly. “Gabe, I don’t want you to think that we’re keeping you around because we need your Grace to get Mom back. I want you here whether you have grace or not. I want to make sure you know that.” 

 

Gabriel nods through the lump in his throat. Sam can have whatever grace he has left. He’d give his life for Sam. Again. 

 

Sam’s hands roaming his back, rubbing his arms, holding him close, make Gabriel ache in a way he hadn’t thought possible in years. 

 

“Wish I had enough grace left to snap us somewhere romantic.” 

 

Sam kisses his head again. “I think my room at the bunker is as romantic as we’re going to get.”

 

“Sounds like heaven,” Gabriel slips his mouth up under Sam’s chin, kissing his jaw. 

 

“Yeah, it does,” Sam’s hand tightens on his side. 

 

“Easy there, lovebirds,” Dean’s voice breaks the intimacy of the moment. 

 

“Your brother always did have a way of killing the mood.” Gabriel whispers to Sam. 

 

“I heard that,” Dean gripes. 

 

Gabriel raises his voice. “Not like you haven’t walked in on us before.” 

 

“You’re right,  **_I have seen it, and I can never unsee it_ ** ,” Dean fake shivers, as if he’s seen something disturbing.

 

Sam shifts, and Gabriel takes it as his cue to stand. Sam rises behind him, arm slipping around Gabriel’s waist. 

 

Dean pulls the driver side door open. “We need to get on the road. We’ve still got a lot to do.” 

 

“Gabriel, we have much to discuss,” Cas says, slipping into the seat behind Dean. 

 

“Great, that’s just what I had in mind at the moment. A long talk with Dean and Cas.” 

 

Sam spins Gabriel in his arms, pressing a kiss to the Archangels lips. “We can survive a few more hours.” 

 

Gabriel can’t help but look at the violet one last time. “We can survive anything, Samshine.” 


End file.
